


Aut viam inveniam aut faciam

by Whedonista93



Series: English Rose [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: When Elizabeth accepts help from an unexpected ally, she accidentally opens a door to Norrington's past.
Relationships: Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner, James Norrington/Original Female Character(s)
Series: English Rose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860733
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. Elizabeth

**Author's Note:**

> Aut viam inveniam aut faciam - I will either find a way or make one

Elizabeth crouches next to James with a sigh. “James Norrington, what has the world done to you?” She looks him up and down and groans. There is no way she’s ever going to be able to move him on her own.

“Need a hand?” A light voice comes from behind her.

Elizabeth stands and whirls, pistol drawn.

A cloaked figure steps from the shadows, slender hands held up in surrender. “I just want to help.”

Elizabeth scoffs. “This is Tortuga.”

“Aye,” a slight nod from within the depths of the woman’s hood. “Even in Tortuga, there are some folk with no ulterior motives.”

Elizabeth glances over at her shoulder at James sprawled in the mud. She looks back at the other woman, who still has her hands held in front of her. She holsters her pistol and nods. The woman steps forward and helps haul James up, heedless of the mud and pig shit smearing on her cloak. They both shuffle awkwardly once they get him upright.

Elizabeth grimaces. “I hadn’t quite gotten so far as figuring out where I was going to take him.”

The other woman laughs. “Follow my lead, then, luv.”

She leads them through the filth of Tortuga’s streets to a sturdy, two-story shack not far from the port. In the dim light, they settle James in a chair at the table near the door and Elizabeth remains next to him, keeping him upright, while the other woman deftly goes about lighting lamps and stoking the fire before moving to the corner and pumping water into a large tub. Finally, she sheds her cloak, securing it on a hook near the fireplace.

Elizabeth doesn’t try to hide her perusal. The woman is in a gray skirt and a red tunic, both of light linen. A well-made sword and a clean pistol hang from her wide leather belt. A silver chain disappears into the neck of her tunic. Dark brown curls hang to her shoulder blades, kept from her face by a few braids twisted behind her head and secured with a heavy steel pin. Her eyes are a pale grey-blue that remind Elizabeth of barely recalled winter storms in England. Her features are angular, similar to Elizabeth’s own, but the left side of her face is marred by a scar that runs from the corner of her eye, to the edge of her ear, and all the way down the line of her jaw, tapering off near her chin.

“Ghastly, isn’t it?” The woman smiles wryly.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth gasps. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

The other woman shrugs. “I’m used to it.”

Elizabeth grimaces. “It’s still rude. I’m Elizabeth, by the way.”

“Rosaleen. You can call me Rose.”

There’s something familiar about her face that Elizabeth can’t quite put her finger on.

“I hope you’re not shy, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rose nods toward James’ slumped figure. “We need to get him cleaned up, and it doesn’t very well make sense to dump him in the tub fully clothed.”

Elizabeth blushes. “Oh. I can manage.”

They get his boots off first, sharing similar looks of distaste at the smell. Between the two of them, they manage to strip James down to his smallclothes. Rose throws the majority of his clothes outside in a heap, and claps as much of the mud and shit off his boots as she can before putting them next to the fire to dry.

“Oh wait!” Elizabeth exclaims, near diving out the door after his clothes. She digs into the pocket of his trousers and digs his pocket watch out. She sighs in relief and tucks it into her own pocket.

Rose looks at her curiously.

Elizabeth shrugs. “He’s carried it as long as I’ve known him.”

*

_ A crack of thunder rouses Elizabeth. She supposes she'll grow used to the tropical storms eventually, but they've only been in Port Royal for a year. She crawls out of bed and slips into her dressing gown before sneaking out into the hall, intent on making it to the kitchens. A light from the library distracts her. She knows her father is asleep. When she pokes her head in, she finds Norrington seated by the empty fireplace, in the glow of a single oil lamp, staring down at his pocket watch. Elizabeth steps back and winces when her foot lands on a creaky board. _

_ Norrington's head jerks up. "Miss Elizabeth! Why are you out of bed?" _

_ Elizabeth steps fully into the library with a shrug. "The storm woke me." _

_ He gestures her in as another thunderclap sounds and she scurries to join him on the couch. "The storm will pass." _

_ Elizabeth shrugs. "I know. Why are you here so late?" _

_ Norrington scoffs. "The officer's lodgings at the fort flooded. Your father offered me a spare room until they are repaired." _

_ "Oh." Elizabeth glances down at the watch still open in his hand and reaches out to gently trace the portrait inside. "She's very pretty. Is she your sweetheart?" _

_ Norrington's lips twist wryly. "She was." _

_ Elizabeth tilts her head curiously. “What’s she like?” _

_ “She is very smart. She taught herself to read and write in French, Spanish, and Latin. She plays the harp. She loves the ocean and horseback riding. She is… poised, and elegant, but does not play at being above her station.” _

_ “Is there anything she can’t do?” _

_ “Sing,” Norrington answers promptly. _

_ Elizabeth giggles. _

_ Norington grins. _

_ "Why isn't she your sweetheart now?" _

_ Norrington unconsciously clutches at the parchment in his other hand. "Her father decided she needed to marry someone of higher standing." _

_ Elizabeth frowns. "That was rotten of him." _

_ Norrington huffs a laugh before he manages to school his features. "It is his choice." _

_ "Does she love you?" _

_ "Yes." _

_ "And you love her?" _

_ "Very much." _

_ "Well, then her father is foolish. What if the other man didn't love her? You take better care of things you love, and that means people too." _

_ Norrington smiles. "That's true." _

_ "Why can't it be her choice?" _

_ Norrington shakes his head. "That's not the way the world works." _

_ Elizabeth crosses her arms defiantly. "Well, it should." _

_ "I don't disagree." He reaches out and tugs lightly on one of her loose curls. "Can I tell you a secret?" _

_ Elizabeth tilts her head again. "Friends tell secrets. Are we friends?" _

_ "We can be." _

_ Elizabeth nods eagerly. "Okay. Tell me." _

_ "I believe your father will allow you to marry whomever you choose. He is a good man, and he loves you dearly." _

_ "He does do an awful lot to make sure I'm happy." _

_ Norrington nods. "If he allows you the choice, Miss Elizabeth, marry a man you love. Not just a man you think you ought to marry." _

_ Elizabeth nods. "Okay." _

_ "Promise?" Norrington holds his hand out. _

_ Elizabeth slips her small hand into his and shakes it firmly. "I promise." _

_ James smiles. "Good girl." _

_ "But if we're friends, you really should just call me Elizabeth, Mr. Norrington." _

_ He smiles again. "Only if you call me James." _

*

It takes all their combined strength to get him into the tub without dumping him headfirst.

Elizabeth’s jaw drops. “The water is warm!”

Rose nods toward the pipes running into the wall. “I share the well with the smithy next door. We run the pipes through the top of the forge. Keeps the water warm.”

Elizabeth shakes her head in wonder. “Brilliant.” She grabs a pitcher and fills it, dumping it over James’ head.

Rose gasps. When Elizabeth looks up, the other woman is grasping her chest, eyes wide like she’s seen a ghost. “James?”


	2. Rose

Rose turns away to grab a stack of linen. When she turns back toward the tub, Elizabeth dumps a pitcher of water over the man’s head, washing away the mud and revealing a painfully familiar face. “James?”

Elizabeth looks up sharply. “Oh! That! _That’s_ why you’re familiar!”

Rose forces her gaze from James’ face to look at Elizabeth. “What?”

“When you took your cloak off,” Elizabeth explains. “I thought you were familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.” She pulls James’ pocket watch out of her pocket.

Rose recognizes it, now that she sees it in the light. It’s gold, and displays intricate English roses. Her breath catches in her throat. “I gave that to him.”

Elizabeth flicks it open, revealing the watchface and the portrait on the other side. Rose’s portrait. “I saw it once, when I was a girl.”

Rose reaches out and takes the watch. With shaking hands, she undoes the clasp hidden on the edge of the portrait, and finds the message engraved behind it. _In high tide or in low tide, my heart sails with you._ She snaps the watch shut, shoving it into her own pocket. Her hands are still shaking when she bends to pick up the linens she dropped.

“How long has it been since you’ve spoken to him?” Elizabeth asks gently.

Instead of answering, Rose sets the linens on the side board of the tub, and picks up a bar of soap, working it into a lather and setting to work cleaning James’ face of grime, before working her way meticulously down. She cleans him head to toe, eventually removing even his smallclothes, before draining the tub and using the pitcher to rinse away the last bits of filth.

She shakes her head with a chuckle. “He must’ve been completely sloshed that none of that woke him up.”

Elizabeth grimaces. “I might’ve smashed him over the head with a bottle.”

“You what?!”

Elizabeth shrugs. “Someone else was likely to stab or shoot him if I didn’t.”

Rose shakes her head and turns to grab another stack of slightly larger linens. She tosses one over James’ lap and gently rubs the rest of him dry. “He’ll have a sore neck, but I vote we leave him in the tub until he can haul himself out.”

“I second that,” Elizabeth agrees.

“Hungry?” 

“I suppose I could eat.”

Rose roots around until she finds a loaf of bread - fresh yesterday - and some fruit, cheese, and salted meat she picked up from an inland farmer a couple days ago. After a moment of consideration, she pulls out a couple goblets and a bottle of wine as well. “I’m sure I can scrounge up some rum, if you’d prefer.”

Elizabeth scoffs. “No, the wine will do very well, thank you.”

They eat in silence.

Rose pours herself a second glass of wine and swirls it around. “A decade. Or thereabouts.”

Elizabeth looks up. “I beg your pardon?”

“You asked how long it had been since we’d spoken. The last time I spoke to him was the day before he set sail for Port Royal.”

“What happened?”

Rose shrugs. “The Navy assigned him to accompany a governor to the Caribbean. My father said it was no place for a lady and broke the engagement instead of allowing us to marry and me to accompany him to his new post.”

Elizabeth frowns. “If he thought Jamaica was no place for a lady, how on earth did you manage to end up in Tortuga?”

Rose laughs, though there’s no humor in it. “When it came down to it, my father could care less where it was appropriate for a lady to live. He had another offer for my hand, from someone he thought was a more suitable match, and James’ new post simply gave him the excuse he needed to accept it. Unfortunately for my father, I was a headstrong thing. I loved James. And I didn’t like Lord Beckett.”

“Beckett?! East India Trading Company Beckett?”

“Aye, the very same.”

“Ugh,” Elizabeth groans. “Who would want to marry him?”

“You’re acquainted?” Rose raises an eyebrow.

“He ruined my wedding day.”

“Bastard.”

Elizabeth hums in agreement.

“Anyway,” Rose continues. “I ran. I planned it well. It took Beckett nearly two years to catch up with me. By that point he was so angry I had managed to avoid him for so long…” She lifts her hand to the scar on her face.

Elizabeth’s jaw drops. “Beckett did that?”

Rose drops her hand and nods. “He told me that if I wasn’t going to act like a proper lady I had no right to look like one.”

Elizabeth scoffs. “Cruel.”

“Aye,” Rose agrees. “He intended to sell me to slavers on one of the islands. Marred face or not, I was aware of what female slaves endured… I waited for a storm and jumped overboard. Likely should have died. Washed up on an island instead. Fortunately, the nearest local tribe was a friendly sort. They found me, took me in and healed me. They taught me many things about healing. The next ship to come by was a pirate crew heading for Tortuga. They were less superstitious than most. Let me tag along as long as I earned my keep. Places like Tortuga don’t exactly attract doctors, so healers of any skill level are respected, protected, and well paid. I’ve carved out quite the life for myself.”

“You knew where James was stationed?”

Rose nods.

“Why did you not go to him?”

Rose smiles ruefully. “Honestly? Vanity. I was not the pretty little English Rose he had known so many years before. I was… harder. And I no longer had my beauty to redeem me of that.”

“Do you know what James told me, when I asked him about you?”

Rose tilts her head to the side.

“He told me how smart you were. Then he told me about all the things you loved. He never once mentioned your looks… and you’re still beautiful,” Elizabeth tells her.

Rose blinks, eyes suspiciously wet.

Jame groans.

Rose shoots to her feet and crosses the room before she can think better of it.

James blinks his eyes open slowly, then squeezes them shut again. “Bloody hell, I must still be sloshed.”

Rose can’t help but laugh. “And why is that?”

He smiles dopily. “My wild English rose… I can only seem to recall your face when I’m drunk or dreaming.”

She smiles softly. “You still dream of me?”

“Every time I close my eyes,” he whispers.

Rose leans over and pinches the inside of his elbow.

He shoots up straight, eyes flying open. “That was painful.”

Rose grins. “Not dreaming. Definitely sloshed.”

He reaches up with shaking hands to cup her face. “You’re here.”

She grasps his wrists. “I’m here.”

He lets out a shuddering breath and shifts forward, then freezes. “I am naked.”

She huffs out a laugh. “You are naked.”


	3. James

James feels as though his eyes are trying to pound their way out of his skull, and he’s not sure where he is. He hears the voices of two women speaking quietly. The oil lamps cast a dim light, but it’s enough to feel like a blade piercing his skull when he tries to open his eyes. He groans.

When he forces his eyes open again, Rose is leaning over him. _Still drunk or dreaming_ , he muses. A conversation follows, though he doesn’t remember it when he’s asked later.

Not until registering the fact that his modesty is covered by naught but a bit of linen. “I am naked.”

Rose laughs. “You are naked.”

He closes his eyes. “Why am I naked?”

“Because I wasn’t going to have you lying about my house covered in mud and pig shit,” Rose tells him, amusement coloring her tone. “Sit tight, I’ll find you something to wear.”

He keeps his eyes screwed shut and listens to her bustle around.

“Here.”

He opens his eyes. 

Rose is holding out a bundle of clothes. “Sizes should be close enough. We’ll turn. Let us know when you’re decent… or if you need help.”

James manages to haul himself over the side of the tub and stumble into the clothes she provides - simple but sturdy stockings and breeches, along with a light linen shirt and dark vest. He clears his throat. “I’m decent.” The women turn. “Elizabeth?!”

Elizabeth smiles ruefully. “Hello, James.”

“What are you doing here? What are you either of you doing here?”

Elizabeth holds out his sword belt.

He takes it and fastens it around his waist. A thought strikes him and he straightens. “My breeches!”

Rose lifts a hand to his chest and pulls his watch out of her pocket. “You still carry it.”

He swallows past the emotion that rises in his throat. “Yes.” He takes it from her and secures it in his pocket.

Elizabeth clears her throat. “Look, I really do hate to interrupt all of this, but… I have things I need to attend to. James, steer clear of the East India Trading Company. Lord Beckett is out for blood.”

James closes his eyes. “I figured that someone would be sooner or later.”

Elizabeth shrugs helplessly. “I’m trying to sort it out. I have to find Will. And Jack.”

James groans. “He’s here. Trying to sign on crew.”

Elizabeth straightens. “The _Black Pearl_ is here now?”

James nods. “Yes.”

Rose’s hand balls into the fabric of his shirt. “Jack Sparrow! How in the Locker did you end up involved with him?”

James smiles ruefully. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

“I don’t,” Elizabeth says. “I have to go.”

“I’m coming with you,” James says.

Elizabeth shrugs. “If I were you, I would stay here, but suit yourself.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “None of us are staying here.”

James looks down at her sharply. “Rose.”

She lifts her hand from his shirt to cut him off. “We have a lot of catching up to do, James. And if you’re going with her, that’s not happening here, so I’m coming with you. Besides, life’s always more interesting with Jack around.”

Before he can protest, she’s bustling around, shoving clothes into a worn leather bag and all manner of jars and linens into a small chest. She tucks a money pouch into the top of the leather bag, plucks a coat off the wall next to her cloak, and plops a hat on her head, then douses the fire and the lamps.

James sighs. “There’s no talking either of you out of this, is there?”

“No,” both women answer.


	4. Elizabeth

“Captain Sparrow!” Elizabeth calls.

Jack barely glances over his shoulder. “Come to join me crew, lad? Welcome aboard.”

“I’m here to find the man I love,” Elizabeth corrects.

Jack freezes. “I’m deeply flattered, son, but my first and only love is the sea.”

Behind her, Rose snickers and James heaves over the side of the dock.

“Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow.”

Jack turns fully. “Elizabeth.” He turns back to Gibbs. “Hide the rum.” Back to Elizabeth. “You know, these clothes do nothing to flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. I happen to have no dress in my cabin.”

“Jack! I know Will came to find you. Where is he?”

“Darling, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this, but through an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever to do with me, poor William has been press-ganged into Davy Jones’ crew.”

Elizabeth looks at him disbelievingly. “Davy Jones?”

James retches again. “Oh, please. The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?”

Jack frowns. “You look bloody awful. What are you doing here?”

“You hired me,” James shoots back. “I can’t help it if your standards are lax.”

“You smell funny,” Jack retorts.

Rose moves next to James, tilting her head so the brim of her hat hides her face, and helps him back to a mostly upright position, offering a flagon of water. “Really should’ve gotten some food and tea in you before we set out.”

“Jack!” Elizabeth interrupts. “All I want is to find Will.”

“Well,” Jack sighs. “Are you certain? Is that what you really want most?”

“Of course.”

“Because I would think,” Jack takes her arm and guides her up the dock, “you'd want to find a way to save Will most.”

“And you’d have a way of doing that?”

“Well,” Jack shrugs. “There is a chest.”

“Oh, dear,” James scoffs.

“A chest of unknown size and origin,” Jack continues.

“What contains the still-beatin’ heart of Davy Jones,” Pintel adds as he shuffles past, Ragetti illustrating crudely.

“And whoever possesses that chest,” Jack says, “possess the leverage to command Jones to do whatever it is he or she wants, including saving brave William from his grim fate.”

James and Rose move up beside them, Rose still hiding her face.

“You don’t actually believe him, do you?” James asks.

Elizabeth considers for a moment. “How do we find it?”

James looks at her in utter disbelief.

“With this.” Jack holds up his compass. “My compass is unique.”

“‘Unique’ here having the meaning of ‘broken’,” James interjects.

“True enough,” Jack agrees. “This compass does not point north.”

James stumbles over to vomit again.

“Where does it point?” Elizabeth asks.

“It points to the thing you want most in this world,” Jack explains.

“Oh, Jack… are you telling the truth?”

“Every word, luv,” Jack assures. “And what you want most in this world,” he lifts her hand and places the compass in it, “is to find the chest of Davy Jones, is it not?”

“To save Will!” Elizabeth exclaims.

“By finding the chest of Davy Jones,” Jack repeats. He opens the compass and backs away rapidly.

The compass spins for only a moment before settling.

Jack reappears at her side. “Mr. Gibbs!”

Gibbs comes down the plank. “Cap’n!” 

“We have our heading!” Jack announces.

“Finally! Cast off those lines. Weigh anchor and crowd that canvas!”

Jack gestures toward the ship. “Miss Swann.”

Elizabeth barely refrains the urge to roll her eyes, but ascends the plank.


	5. Rose

“Welcome to the crew, former commodore,” Pintel greets, shoving a goat into James’ arms.

Rose reaches up and grabs Pintel by the ear. “I do believe you’ll be taking that creature back, won’t you Mister Pintel?”

Pintel pales and takes the goat back. “Miss Rose! Didn’t realize you was about!”

Rose doesn’t answer, merely shoves James toward the plank, keeping a hand at his back to ensure he doesn’t pitch himself into the sea. She lets herself into the small quartermaster’s cabin off the main deck - technically she supposes it belongs to Gibbs, but he’s never used it as long as she’s known the man. She sets her chest under the table and drops her bag to the floor next to the bed before turning and tugging James the rest of the way into the room from where he’s hovering in the doorway.

She shoves him lightly onto the bed, then bends and tugs his boots off before swinging his feet up and shoving at his shoulders until he lies back. “Sleep it off.”

“Rose.”

She turns to close the door, then drags one of the room’s wooden chairs over next to the bed and kicks her boots off before propping her feet up next to his. “Rest, James. I’m not talking to you while you’re still drunk.”

James falls into a fitful sleep. Rose dozes on and off. They both wake fully near dawn. 

James sits up and reaches for her hand. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Rose squeezes his hand. “It wasn’t a dream.”

His grip on her hand tightens and, without warning, he tugs, pulling her into his lap and into his embrace.

She buries her face in his chest and inhales the scent of sea air and steel that always seems to cling to him. 

He tightens his arms around her. “I wrote to your brother, after I made it to Port Royal,” he speaks into her hair. “I inquired if he thought your father might reconsider. The months waiting for a reply were agony. I had fantasies of you arriving yourself in lieu of a letter. And then, when a letter finally came… it said you were to be wed to newly appointed Lord Cutler Beckett.”

Rose shakes her head against him. “I wouldn’t marry him.”

“Your brother made it clear you were not to be given a choice.”

Rose pulls back and looks him in the eyes. “I wasn’t.”

“I had heard he was a cruel man. I even contemplated returning to England and spiriting you away with me.”

Rose smiles sadly. “I wish you would have.”

“How did… what… I do not even know what to ask.”

“I spirited myself away.”

James reaches up and brushes gentle fingers over the scar marring her features.

Rose flinches away. “I evaded him for a long time. He took his ire out cruelly when he did finally catch up with me.”

James’ face goes hard. “Beckett did this?”

Rose nods, barely managing to blink away tears.

James leans close enough to brush a feather light kiss across her cheek. “I swear I shall kill him if I ever lay eyes upon him.” He gently lifts her chin. “You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”


	6. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tortuga, Haiti to Isla Cruces, Tabasco, Mexico (modern) is approximately a 2,100km (1,300 miles) trip. A sail ship (according to some liberal Googling) can travel approximately 80 NM (nautical miles = approximately 1.15 standard miles) in a day on a long haul trip. The Black Pearl is supposed to be the fastest in the Caribbean, we’ll be generous and up that to 90 NM/day. That being said, the crew would be at sea for at least 2 weeks as opposed to the mere hours the movie makes it look like.

James holds Rose close, propriety not even a thought in his mind, as they speak quietly of the trials and triumphs they have endured in the years they were apart.

Too soon, there are shouts from the deck, calling the crew to work.

“You should go,” Rose tells him softly.

He tightens his arms around her. “Answer me something first.”

Rose looks up at him, ice blue eyes reminding him of freezing winters he hasn’t experienced in over a decade. 

“Is there a chance that it’s not too late for us?”

Rose smiles and arches up enough to kiss him.

The shouting on the deck gets louder.

“Go swab the decks, Norrington,” she commands playfully. 

James sneaks back into her room that afternoon. “Beckett is after the chest of Davy Jones.”

Rose scoffs. “He thinks he can rule the seas, doesn’t he?”

James shrugs. “Likely.”

“But what does Jack want with it? We all know it has nothing to do with saving Mister Turner.”

“Are you entertaining the idea that it actually exists?”

“Strange things happen on the seas, love. Weren’t you just telling me this morning about cursed gold and undead pirates?”

“Well, yes, but a living, beating heart in a chest?”

Rose shrugs.

“He’s offering Jack a pardon and a contract as a privateer,” James says quietly.

“Is he? Jack would never take it.”

“If it weren’t for you being here, and knowing what he did to you… I would likely try to take it for myself.”

Rose cups his cheek. “Oh, James.”

“I am lost, darling.”

Rose smiles sadly. “Then let’s find you a heading, shall we?”


	7. Elizabeth

“My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled,” Jack posits, lounging on the steps next to Elizabeth.

“I just thought I’d be married by now.” Elizabeth admits. “I’m so ready to be married.”

Jack pulls the cork on the bottle of rum and offers it to her.

Despite her better judgement, she takes a swig.

“You know,” Jack clears his throat. “Lizzie, I am captain of a ship, and being captain of a ship, I could in fact perform a… marriage,” he drags the word out, clearly going for dramatic effect, “right here. Right on this deck. Right… now.”

Elizabeth manages to shove the bottle of rum back at Jack in disgust, turning him down, and insulting him a couple times before Rose storms up and slaps Jack right across the face.

Jack shouts and brings his free hand to his face. “I don’t think I deserved that.”

Rose lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I only caught a bit of it, but I’m fairly certain you just propositioned a betrothed woman, you ass.”

Jack grunts noncommittally.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “One of these days, you’ll have a chance to do the right thing, Jack.”

“I love those moments!” Jack perks up. “I like to wave at them as they pass by.”

Rose scoffs.

Jack spins back toward her. “What in the bloody hell are you doing on my ship, wench?”

“Whatever the bloody hell I want,” Rose fires back.

Jack opens his mouth.

Rose casually raises her hand to inspect her nails.

Jack flinches back and scowls. “You have a way of mucking up my plans."

“And you have a way of mucking up my life,” Rose replies tartly. “Or do we need to discuss again precisely why I can do whatever the bloody hell I want as far as you’re concerned?”

Jack opens his mouth, closes it again, then turns and flees.

Rose rolls her eyes at Jack’s antics, then turns back to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, a word?”

“Gladly.” Elizabeth follows her into her cabin. She raises an eyebrow. “The quartermaster’s cabin?”

Rose shrugs. “It’s not the first time I’ve sailed with Jack. Gibbs never uses it.”

“Jack’s never particularly confrontational, but he doesn’t even put up a token protest with you.”

“A story for another time. Do you know what Jack wants with the chest?”

Elizabeth shrugs. “I don’t. Do you?”

“She does,” James drawls from the small table in the corner.

“I have a hunch. I think Jack made a deal with Jones,” Rose moves across the room and sits on the table near James’ elbow. “He’s one of the few I know who’s stupid enough. And now he’s trying to save himself from holding up his end of the bargain.”

“So what do we do?” Elizabeth asks. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“I have the start of one,” Rose says slowly.

“Will it save Will?”

Rose nods. “Aye, but it may doom Jack.”


	8. Rose

“Doom Jack?” Elizabeth asks, biting her lip.

Rose sighs. “Thirteen years ago, the _Pearl_ was sunk.”

Elizabeth gasps. 

Rose’s lips twist wryly. “Not many know. He was rather spectacularly sloshed when he told me about it, though not quite sloshed enough to tell me how he got her back. I think he made a deal with Jones to get her back.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widen. “His soul for the _Pearl_?”

Rose shrugs. “I mean…”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “No, you’re right. He would.”

“So why isn’t Jones making him pay up?” James asks.

“Who says he isn’t?”

James raises an eyebrow.

“You said he was signing on crew in Tortuga. The _Pearl_ doesn’t need any new crew.”

“A trade,” Elizabeth gasps, paling. “He’s trying to make another deal. Trade other souls for his own.”

“But how many?” Rose wonders. “Jones wouldn’t make it easy.”

“We can’t ask the crew,” James muses, idly shifting his arm to wrap around Rose’s waist. “They’re too loyal.”

Rose hums thoughtfully. “Maybe… but some are superstitious as well… I’ll be back.” She leaves before either of her companions can protest. She finds Gibbs alone at the helm and leans against the railing. “Mister Gibbs.”

Gibbs smiles broadly. “Miss Rose! Didn’t know you was aboard.”

Rose smiles and shrugs. “If you ever used your own cabin…”

Gibb shrugs. “Then where would ye lay yer pretty little head when you’re with us? ‘sides, I prefer me hammock.”

Rose hums thoughtfully. “Mister Gibbs…”

Gibbs finally fully looks at her. “What is it, lass?”

“What’s wrong with Jack?”


	9. James

When Rose returns to her little cabin, she’s muttering under her breath and seems to have forgotten he and Elizabeth are there. They exchange an amused glance as Rose paces the small space available. James settles back in his chair and watches her, finally letting himself note the difference in her from the woman he knew a decade ago. 

Since they set out to sea, he’s noticed she keeps her hair pulled back in a series of intricate braids, likely to avoid the sea winds whipping it about. She’d always loathed wearing her hair up, back in England; she’d confided in him once it wasn’t so much the act of wearing it up as the fact that she was expected to. She never liked doing what she was expected to. Case and point - she takes over the quartermaster’s cabin on a pirate ship as if she owns the bloody thing and no one bats an eye, yet he’s not sure he would go so far as to call her a pirate herself. She seems to favor short, split skirts and light linen shirts with wide belts as opposed to the breeches most female sailors tend to veer toward. She favored intricately designed rings, all those years ago, but now her hands are bare, save calluses and scars. Her ears, however, both glint with silver rings from top to bottom - she still favors silver over gold - and she wears leather bracers on both wrists. A silver chain disappears into the neckline of her shirt.

James cocks his head toward Elizabeth. “She used to wear rings.”

Elizabeth nods and responds just as quietly as James had spoken. “She still twists her fingers about each other as if she still wears them. I asked her about it, when we were waiting for you to wake up. She said it’s easier not to wear them than to take them off every time she has to treat a wound.”

James nods and silently returns to his perusal. Her skin is darker, tanned by the Caribbean sun. Her eyes are still the same pale blue gray of a winter sky. And then there’s the scar. His blood boils when he sees it, and his resolve to make sure Beckett dies a painful death grows. Despite what Rose seems to think, it doesn’t detract from her beauty. He called her his wild English Rose, when they were to be married, and the scar just adds a flair to her natural beauty - serves as a reminder of her strength and resilience. He determines to convince her of that, if she’ll give him the chance. 

She finally stops pacing and slumps onto the bed, worrying at the chain around her neck. Between her fingers, James catches sight of the pendant hanging from it. Before he’s even aware he’s moving, he’s crossed the room to kneel in front of her, carefully unwinding the chain from her fingers. A silver rose with a perfect white pearl in the center, shines against his fingers.

“You got it,” he breathes. “I sent it to your brother, with my letter, but… after I received his reply that you were betrothed to another, I was not sure he would have given it to you.”

Rose nods jerkily and raises her hand to wrap her fingers loosely around his wrist. “I went home, once, after my father died. My brother gave me the necklace, along with the letter you wrote my father after you reached Port Royal.”

“When I told you about that letter before, you didn’t say…”

Ros shrugs. “I didn’t know how to tell you. The things I felt when I read that letter… and it had been years. I did not know what had become of you in the meantime.”

“Your brother is a good man, Rose. Did he not offer…”

“Aye, he did. He offered me a place in his home with no obligation. But I could not accept. I was too changed to exist in England’s high society.”

James reaches up and cups her cheek sympathetically, letting his forehead fall to rest against hers as his fingers close around the pendant. “I am glad you kept it. It almost makes me feel as if you kept a bit of me next to your heart all these years.”

Rose’s fingers tighten around his wrist and her eyes drift closed. “You’re still an awful romantic, James.” She raises her other hand and rests her fingers over his closed fist. “But always.”


	10. Elizabeth

Elizabeth blushes, feeling as if she’s intruding, and delicately clears her throat.

James and Rose draw apart slowly and blink at her.

“Sorry to interrupt, but... Jack?”

Rose shakes her head, apparently clearing the fog. “Right. A hundred souls. Jones gave him three weeks to surrender a hundred souls.”

Elizabeth’s jaw drops. “He’s so keen on his own life he would sacrifice a hundred souls just to save his?”

Rose shrugs. “It might actually be the most deplorable thing he’s done, or been willing to do, that I know of.”

Elizabeth slumps against the back of her chair. “Bloody hell.”


	11. Rose

The chest is the key. The chest saves Elizabeth’s Will. The chest gets James close to Beckett. The chest gives them power over Davy Jones.

They discuss using that power to save Jack too, but Rose argues that perhaps he ought to actually learn his lesson for once. James agrees with her, so Elizabeth doesn’t argue. In the privacy of her mind, Rose reasons that there are other deals to be made if they decide they want him back. They will save him if they can, but everything else comes first. 

***

She feels as much as sees James watching her as the days pass.

“What do you think he’s looking for?” Rose asks Elizabeth during a lull one evening.

“I’m not sure he’s looking  _ for _ anything,” Elizabeth answers.

“Then why does he watch me so?”

Elizabeth scoffs. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

Elizabeth tilts her head. “Did he tell you we were engaged once?”

Rose’s lips twist upward. “Aye, he mentioned it.”

“He used to watch me in a similar manner. I believe it’s how he gets to know people. Observation. And with you… I think he’s perhaps trying to determine who you are now in comparison to the woman he used to know.”

“And what do you suppose he sees?”

Elizabeth smiles softly. “If I know James at all? I believe he likely sees a woman he could love even more than the one he used to, and I believe he doesn’t have the first clue how to tell you that.”

Rose hums thoughtfully. She starts watching James. It’s only fair, after all.

The Caribbean sun has been kinder to his skin than it has to hers. His dark hair is longer than it was when she knew him before, but he keeps it neater than most sailors, combed and clubbed neatly at the nape of his neck. Rose’s fingers itch to undo the leather tie and run her fingers through the strands to find out what the texture of it is like.

He’s an adept sailor, and sets himself to even the most menial tasks without complaint. He has the same dry wit as the young officer she loved so long ago, but it’s sharper now, more cynical. His green eyes still shine brilliantly, but they only soften when he looks out over the ocean, and when he looks at her.


	12. James

Rose seems as loathe to let James out of her sight as James feels to let her out of his, and by some unspoken agreement, he continues to bed down in her little cabin. Holding her each night is the sweetest torture he has ever endured. Despite that first conversation and kiss, he does not allow himself the liberty of kissing her again, because he does not believe he has the strength to stop at a kiss. Fortunately for his sanity, one of the many things about Rose that had not changed over the years is her impatience.

“James.”

James looks up from the map he has spread across her small table.

Rose is sitting on the bed, simply staring at him. 

He shifts self-consciously. “Yes?”

She smiles softly. “What do you see, when you watch me as you do?”

He swallows thickly. “I’m afraid my answer will only solidify your accusation that I am an awful romantic.”

The smile reaches her eyes. “I would like to hear it all the same.”

James stands and takes the few steps across the room, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. “I see everything. I see a woman handed the worst lots in life who pulled herself up by her bootstraps and soldiered on to create a respectable life for herself. I see that the woman I fell in love with a decade ago has grown into so much more. I see an untamed beauty that stands in the midst of a storm and laughs, refusing to be cowed. I see my wild Rose, and I hope to God and whatever other deities may be out there that she is still mine.”

He barely has time to register the tears Rose blinks away before she launches herself into his arms, toppling them both to the floor.

She tastes like the winter sea when she kisses him.

His mind tries to catalogue every inch of her as it's revealed to him, but it doesn’t take long for the sensation to overwhelm him.

After, though, sated and pressed up against one another under the sheets, he idly traces the scars and ink adorning her skin. 

His fingers brush over a compass on her right forearm. “Did you have any of these when you visited your brother?”

Rose snorts out a very unladylike laugh. “I rolled my sleeves up to help his wife cut flowers from the garden and thought the poor woman was going to faint.”

James rolls into her and chuckles into her neck. “And your brother?”

“Wanted to know how many more I had and how badly they hurt.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That it hurt worse when he broke my nose when I was six.”

James laughs, then props himself back up on his elbow and tugs the sheet down to trace the cluster of islands inked into her left hip.

She points to one of the little islands. “This is where the tribe who rescued me lives.”

His hand drifts up her ribs. “ _Aut viam inveniam aut faciam_.”

“‘I will either find a way or make one,’” Rose whispers.

James presses a kiss to her ribs.

“Jack has a rather sloppily done ‘ _Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixture dementia fuit’_ on his arse,” Rose tells him.

James snorts, somber mood broken. “‘There has been no great intelligence without an element of madness.’ Rather fitting.”

“Wisdom,” Rose corrects his translation. “‘There has been no great wisdom without an element of madness.’ We were both rather spectacularly sloshed and one of the crew had ink and needles.”

“ _You_ tattooed it on his arse?”

Rose nods. “Aye.”

James frowns. “Have you and he ever…” He trails off, unable to make himself finish the question. 

Rose rolls over and points to a constellation near her right shoulder blade. “Jack did this one.”

James squints down at it. “ _Ursa Minor_ ? _Polaris_ is larger than the rest of the stars…”

“Aye,” Rose says. “A bit of a joke, I suppose… you’ve seen Jack’s compass.”

“Yes.”

“A compass that doesn’t point North, and the Northern star a woman he will never have.”

James smiles and presses a kiss to the star, then sweeps his hand down her back, tracing more tattoos and scars. “Tell me about the rest.”

***

Rose invites herself along to the landing party, though she doesn’t deign to help him dig the chest out of the sand.

“There’s another shovel, you know,” James tells her.

“Aye,” she grins. “But why should I work up a sweat when watching you do so paints such a lovely picture?”

Everyone jumps to attention when his shovel thunks against the chest, and they heave it out of the sand, then pulls a smaller chest out of it. They exchange glances only briefly before lowering their heads toward the smaller chest. A steady thumping emanates from it.

“It’s real,” James mutters in wonder. “You actually were telling the truth.”

“I do that quite a lot, yet people are always surprised,” Jack says.

“With good reason!” A new voice calls from behind them.

Elizabeth scrambles up. “Will! You’re all right! Thank God! I came to find you!”

James looks away from their embrace, feeling as if he’s intruding.

Rose winks at him.

“How did you get here?” Jack asks.

Will feeds him a line about sea turtles, followed by a mild guilt trip about selling him out to Jones.

James wishes he could even feign surprise when Jack pulls his sword on Will. Moments later, there are three swords drawn, while Elizabeth and Rose look on.


	13. Elizabeth

Will showing up was not part of Rose’s plan, but Elizabeth feels nothing but pure relief at the sight of him. And a fair bit of anger toward Jack. It makes her feel less guilty about condemning Jack to the fate he signed himself up for. She feels as though she does a fair job of looking baffled at the turn of events when the men all draw swords on each other - leagues better than Rose, who can’t seem to stop giggling at the whole thing.

Elizabeth reaches over and squeezes the other woman’s hand. “Pull it together. This was your plan!”

Rose sobers.

James, though… Elizabeth has to give the former Naval officer credit. He plays his part perfectly. “Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest. I deliver it, I get my life back.”

“Ah,” Jack grins. “The dark side of ambition.”

“Oh,” James smiles, “I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption.”

Rose squeezes Elizabeth’s hand and leans close. “This was a terrible plan. Can I take it back? I don’t want him anywhere near Beckett.”

Elizabeth squeezes back and shakes her head. “He’ll go after him either way. This gives him some leverage, at least. The plan is a good one, Rose.”

Elizabeth releases Rose’s hand when the men start bashing away at each other, running after them and really laying on the dramatics. It would be so much easier if she had time to explain everything to Will, instead of James being the only one involved in the fight that has a clue what the real endgame is.


	14. Rose

“How’d this go all screwy?” Pintel asks, running up on the scene.

“Well,” Ragetti says, “each wants the chest for hisself, don’t he? Mr. Norrington, I think, is trying to regain a bit of honor, old Jack’s looking to trade it, save his own skin, then Turner there, I think he’s trying to settle som unresolved business ‘twixt him and his twice-cursed pirate father.”

“Sad,” Pintel observes. “That chest must be worth more than a shiny penny.”

Ragetti tsks. “Oh, terrible temptation.”

“If we was any kind of decent, we’d remove temptation from their path.”

The pirates run for the chest as Elizabeth feigns a faint.

Rose meets them with sword and pistol raised. “Your observations are not incorrect, gentlemen, but I’m afraid I need this chest to remain in my sight.”

“The  _ Dutchman _ just went under off the coast,” Ragetti tells her.

Rose curses. “Very well, heave to, gentlemen. I do believe it’s in our best interest for me to keep my eyes on the chest further inland.”

Elizabeth seems momentarily torn between continuing to watch the men fight, or following Rose. Tearing off across the island with the chest was not part of the plan, after all. Rose is grateful when the other woman runs toward her.

Jones’ creature crew attacking is not part of the plan, though it really should have been expected, and they lose the chest in the chaos.


	15. James

Unintentionally working together, James and Will manage to disarm Jack.

James turns to Will. “Do excuse me while I kill the man who ruined my life.”

It’s not part of the plan, really, but Rose only said he can’t kill Jack, she said nothing about severely maiming.

“Be my guest,” Will nods.

Jack backs up. “Let us examine that claim for a moment! Who was it, that at the very moment you had a notorious pirate safely behind bars, saw fit to free said pirate and take your dearly beloved all to hisself, eh? So whose fault is it, really, that you’ve ended up a rum-pot deckhand what takes orders from pirates?”

“Enough!” James swings once, and Jack dodges and rolls off the roof. “Unfortunately, Mister Turner, he’s right!” James swings back on Will, with the intent of forcing the other man out of Jack’s sight, so he can explain their plan. The broken wheel was not part of said plan. Jack somehow not only ends up back in the fight, but also gets the key and the chest.

James stumbles over the side of the wheel, and notices the dinghy. His aim is Jack’s jacket and Beckett’s papers, but then he notices the dirt.

When he turns back to battle, he can’t help but spare a brief moment to watch Rose - it’s the first time he’s seen her fight. She treats her sword as if it’s an extension of her arm, and while she fights well, she fights wild - unpredictable. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say Jack had a hand in teaching her to wield a sword. He wades back into the fight, Jones’ heart beating against his ribs. He grabs Rose’s arm and spins her away from one of the creatures, then into his side, just long enough to whisper, “I have it.”


	16. Elizabeth

“We’re not getting out of this,” Elizabeth shakes her head desperately.

James glances behind them. “Not with the chest.” He reaches over and grabs it. “Into the boat!”

“You’re mad!” Elizabeth exclaims.

“Don’t wait for me,” James calls as he takes off running through the water, sword swinging.

“I say we respect his final wish,” Jack decides.

“Aye!” The crew agrees.

Elizabeth hesitates only a moment longer before turning to the boat and helping heave Will into it. Rose is still staring after James. Elizabeth grabs her arm. “We have to go!”

Rose turns to her with desperate eyes.

Elizabeth tugs on her arm. “Rose, now!”

Rose clambers into the boat, still staring after James, muttering under her breath. Elizabeth can’t quite decipher if they’re prayers or curses. She reaches over and grips the older woman’s hand. “He’ll make it.”

Rose nods tightly, and continues muttering. Elizabeth realizes then why she can’t decipher if they’re prayers or curses - she doesn’t even recognize the language.

Will finally rouses when they’re back aboard the _Pearl_. “What happened to the chest?”

Elizabeth frowns and glances at Rose, who’s sticking close to Jack. “Norrington took it to draw them off.”


	17. Rose

“Where’s the commodore?” Gibbs asks.

“He fell behind,” Jack answers cagily.

“My prayers be with him,” Gibbs mutters. “Best not wallow in our grief! The bright side is you’re back, and made it off free and clear.”

The _Dutchman_ emerges from the water.

“Lord on high, deliver us,” Gibbs prays, making the symbol of the cross.

“I’ll handle this, mate,” Jack swaggers forward.

Rose makes a half-hearted grab toward his back. “Don’t aggravate him, Jack!”

Jack, of course, ignores her. “Oi, fishface!” He holds his jar of dirt above his head. “Lose something, eh?” He asks before he falls down the stairs. “Got it!” He calls, then stands again. “Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git? Look what I got!”

Rose groans and makes her way down the main deck to stand next to Elizabeth. “Fuck our plan to the Locker if he gets us all killed before we can carry it out,” she mutters to Elizabeth and the _Dutchman_ ’s canon ports slide open.

“I got a jar of dirt, I got a jar of dirt, and guess what’s inside it?” Jack sings, continuing to taunt Jones.

“Hard to starboard,” Jack commands nervously.

“Hard to starboard!” Elizabeth screams.

“Brace up the foreyard!” Will yells.

Canon fire rips through the captain’s cabin and Rose curses and runs after Jack and he takes the wheel. “Steer or carry your bloody jar, but you can’t very well do both!”

Jack, predictably, ignores her.

The _Dutchman_ falls behind.

“They’re giving up!” Marty calls from the crow’s nest.

The crew cheers. 

Jack grins smugly as Will tries to reason that they can take the _Dutchman_ . “Why fight when you can negotiate? All one needs is the proper leverage.” Jack sets his jar on the railing. The _Pearl_ lurches, sending the jar crashing to the main deck, and Jack makes a distressed sound before running after it.

“We have no leverage,” Rose tells the few remaining on the steering deck.

“James or Jones has it, then?” Elizabeth asks.

“Let us hope James.”

“We must have hit a reef!” One of the crew calls.

Elizabeth, Rose, and Gibbs all hurry to look overboard.

“No,” Will shakes his head. “It’s not a reef!” He rushes over and jerks Elizabeth and Rose back from the rail.

“What is it?” Elizabeth demands.

“The kraken,” Will spits out. “To arms!”

Rose narrows her eyes and searches for Jack. She curses when she can’t find him, but prepares to face the beast. They beat it back. “We’ll only have made it angry.”

“Aye,” Wll nods. “It’ll be back.”

The life boats are smashed to pieces.

Will decides to blow the creature up. He hands Elizabeth a rifle. “Whatever you do, don’t miss.”

“As soon as you’re clear,” Elizabeth promises.

“We didn’t feature the bloody kraken into our plan,” Rose mutters, following the younger woman. They spot Jack from the upper deck. “Bloody coward,” Rose grits through her teeth.

She spends the next several minutes cursing him, desperately trying to stay alive as the kraken begins to devour the _Pearl_ , until suddenly, there he is again. He picks up the gun as Elizabeth clings to his leg.

Rose clings to his other leg and leans toward Elizabeth with tears in her eyes. “Surrendering him to the kraken is surrendering him to Jones.”

Elizabeth offers a jerky nod, blinking away her own tears. “And that was the plan all along.”

“Captain, orders?” Gibbs calls.

“Abandon ship,” Jack orders. “Into the longboat.”

While everyone debates for a brief moment, Rose closes her eyes, debating the best way to carry out this next part of her plan - it’s the hardest part of it, after all. Elizabeth meets her eyes as Jack caresses the _Pearl_ ’s mast, and Rose sees the decision in the other woman’s eyes. She’s just selfish enough to be grateful that Elizabeth is willing to bear the weight of this.

The younger woman strides up behind the captain. “Thank you, Jack.”

Jack turns to her. “We’re not free yet, love.”

“You came back. I always knew you were a good man.” She steps forward until she’s close enough to lean in, press herself up against the captain and bring her lips to his, subtly forcing him the few steps back against the mast.

In a split second decision, knowing that she cannot leave Elizabeth to bear the weight of it alone, Rose steps forward and snaps the manacle around Jack’s wrist.

Elizabeth pulls back. “It’s after you, not the ship.”

“It’s not us,” Rose whispers.

“This is the only way, don’t you see?” Elizabeth practically pleads. “I’m not sorry.”

“Pirates,” Jack accuses, something close to a grin threatening.

Elizabeth turns for the longboat.

Rose meets his eyes, and the question in them. She nods.

Jack winks and smiles. She determines then that they’ll get him back. There’s too much history between them for her to abandon him to the Locker and he bloody well knows it, smug bastard.

“Where’s Jack?” Will asks, something sharp in his tone, when they reach the boat.

Elizabeth meets his eyes steadily. “He elected to stay behind to give us a chance.”

Everyone seems to freeze.

“Go!” Rose demands.

They barely make it out of range before the kraken drags the _Pearl_ down to the depths.


	18. James

“The last of our ships has returned,” Mercer tells Beckett.

“Any news of the chest?” Beckett demands.

“None,” Mercer says. “But one of our ships did pick up a man adrift at sea. He had these.” He drops the packet containing the letter of marque on Beckett’s desk.

“I took the liberty of filling in my name,” James tells Beckett as he opens the packet.

Beckett gestures him forward.

James jerks his arm from his guard’s hold.

“If you intend to claim these, then you must have something to trade,” Beckett tells him.

James strides forward, suddenly grateful his weapons had been taken. He rather desperately wants to make this man bleed, and that would muck up Rose’s plan.

“Do you have the compass?” Beckett asks.

“Better,” James says, lifting the burlap sack in his hand and dropping it on Beckett’s desk. “The heart of Davy Jones.”


	19. Elizabeth

Fortunately, they abandoned the _Pearl_ close to allies, if not outright friends. There’s something eerie about Tia Dalma’s swamp, but the woman herself is kind enough. Elizabeth thinks the thudding of Will’s knife into the table is going to drive her mad. A look toward Rose tells her that the other woman agrees with the sentiment.

“Against the cold, and the sorrow,” Tia Dalma offers drinks.

The crew all wax on about Jack, raising mugs in toast.

Rose remains silent.

“He was a good man,” Elizabeth says, but doesn’t drink. She notices Rose doesn’t either.

“If there was anything that could be done to bring him back…” Will stands. “Elizabeth…”

“Would you do it?” Tia Dalma demands. “Hmm? What would you do? Hmm? What would any of you be willing to do, hmm? Would you sail to de ends of de eart’ and beyond to fetch back witty Jack and him precious _Pearl_?”

“Aye!” Gibbs says immediately.

“Aye!” Pintel agrees fiercely.

“Aye!” Ragetti agrees, right behind his partner.

Cotton raises his glass and his parrot squawks an, “Aye.”

Elizabeth nods. “Yes.”

Rose reaches for the other woman’s hand. “Aye.”

Will nods as well. “Aye.”

“All right,” Tia Dalma smiles. “But if you go and brave the weird and haunted shores at world’s end… then you will need a captain who knows those waters.”

Hector Barbossa stomps slowly, dramatically, down the steps. “So tell me, what’s become of my ship?”

Once everyone’s reactions have settled, Elizabeth twines her fingers with Rose’s and tugs her toward the corner Barbossa has sequestered himself in.

Barbossa raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Can we really save him?” Elizabeth asks, a little desperately.

Barbossa smirks. “Is that guilt I be sensin’ Miss Swann?”

Rose squeezes her hand. “It had to be done.”

“And who might you be?”

“Rose.”

“Just Rose?”

“Just Rose.”

“Tell me, lassies, what exactly you’re feelin’ so guilty over the likes of Jack Sparrow for.”

“It had to be done,” Elizabeth repeats Rose’s previous answer.

Barbossa taps his nails on the tabletop.

“Elizabeth distracted him and I chained him to the mast,” Rose explains in a rush. “He made a deal with Jones and wasn’t going to honor it. Why should we be a kraken’s meal for his cowardice?” She asks vehemently.

“I’m not sorry,” Elizabeth says.

“And yet ye want him back?”

Rose shrugs. “Just because I think a man ought to honor his debts doesn’t mean I think Jack deserves the Locker. He just needed to learn there are actually consequences for the choices he makes.”

“He’s a good man,” Elizabeth whispers.

“And if his debt to Jones was to be paid in service aboard the _Dutchman_?” Barbossa asks.

“I’d have left him rot,” Rose answers with no hesitation.

“But ye’d have turned him over to Jones all the same?”

Rose shrugs.

“You’re an interesting lass, Miss Rose.”

Elizabeth scoffs. “You don’t know the half of it.”


End file.
